Memories
by halbarath
Summary: This is my idea of the relationship between Rose and Scorpius and how it evolved throughout the years. Rated T to be on the safe side. A/N : JK Rowling's property.
1. Chapter 1

Septembre 2017, 1st.

I remember.

I remember the first time I saw her, at the train station.

So young, so naive. So small. So crowded by her own family.

And then, she was looking at us. Clear blue eyes piercing me with a strange intensity even as I was shadowed by Mother. Now still, I'm not sure she was watching me especially.

It didn't endear her to me.

I remember Father talking. "That's the Weasley-Potter clan, son. You stay clear but be sure to be polite whatever happens." I remember my parents that day. I remember their hushed tones and the touches of worry.

I remember sitting in the drawing-room at home and listening to them forewarning me of school. How I should expect people to be hostile towards me. What they expected of me.

I remember how I felt. Scared. Alone. Too proud to let anything show. I remember sitting in the train. Not alone, but not included either. They all just left me be. I remember the wonder of the school. How grand and lit and shining. How utterly peaceful and grey and stark. How loud.

I remember the Sorting. The wait. The girls wringing their hands. The family members staying close to each others. The friends talking in barely audible tones.

I remember Slytherin hushing when I was sorted before the timid and polite reception. I remember sitting before a plate that seemed dull and cold. I remember the harshness of the bench and the distance to the others. I remember their eyes boring into me. I remember lifting my chin, tightening my jaw and blocking the rest of the school. I remember Rose Weasley sitting at Gryffindor next to a beaming Albus. I remember the shouts and cries and applauds at their table each time a first year was sorted to them.

I remember. I've never forgotten.


	2. The first years

The first years

Scorpius had always been a thorn in my side. Academically speaking.

For as long as I can remember, he was a lonely figure. He had very few interactions with others except a very few friends. He usually sat alone in class. His work was always perfect, his essays longer than necessary, his research well-led, his answers were correct but to the point. He was laconic at best. I've always heard dad joke about the amount of time mum used to spend in Hogwarts library. I think Scorpius was worse.

He was a strange guy. I mean, dad told me to better him at school. I tried. I really did. But I wasn't as dedicated to school as mum was. I love to read. I love to learn. And I'm curious. But then, I also loved to spend time with friends and family, to stroll through the grounds of Hogwarts, to watch ripples on the lake in the wake of the Giant Squid. I liked to watch Quidditch and to wander the deserted corridors and classrooms of the school. I loved to explore with Albus. I loved going to Hogsmeade and see my family. I loved snow ball fights, talking late into the night with the girls in my dormitory or to curl up on the Common Room couch watching the fire burning. School was such a lovely time that studying didn't really need to take all my time. And well, if that meant Scorpius was better than me, I had made my peace with it. The least I could do however, was to stick close and be just behind him. It wouldn't do to disappoint my dad. Or my mother who strongly believed I didn't try my best. I couldn't in all honesty disagree.

I spend most of my time alone. Most of the school hadn't wanted to associate with me.

At first, I was bullied. It didn't happen again. I was a Malfoy. My parents had expectations of me. I was to be well-bred, to know how to navigate the Pureblood society. I was to be well-educated and proficient with spells. But my parents were no fools. They knew what I should expect. I'm sorry to say they were right. And Father taught me a few spells before school - just in case. I must confess they had been handy, if not allowed.

I had a few friends, the very few who were courageous enough to talk to me and get to know me. They spend most of their time with more powerful and influential company. Certainly more pleasant too. I was at peace with it. The up of being an outcast is the total freedom you have.

I knew the castle most deserted places. The forgotten pieces of paradise. The quietest spot near the lake. The cosiest armchair in the library. The flowery glade on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. The sunny unused classroom. The short-cuts and empty corridors. The portraits nobody ever visited. How much did they tell me over the course of the years ? How much did I learn through them ?

I remember how the teachers used to watch me, with something akin to pity in their eyes. They didn't understand. Sure I would have appreciated the comfort of my fellow classmates or Slytherins. Sure I would have loved to be the date of the prettier girls in the school. Sure, I would have loved to stay during the school holidays to spend Christmas with friends doing nothing and laughing like first years. But I had found other joys here. If the other pupils would not be seen with me, I'll make the most of what I had been given. All I had, I made for myself. It was my strength. I didn't need anybody's pity. And after a while, their gaze changed. I knew some of the teachers expected more of my work. I strived to be even better. I like to have a challenge.


	3. The Yule Ball

A/N : JK Rowling's property. Not mine.

The Yule Ball

I remember the Yule Ball. I came, because it was expected of me. My parents would have liked for me to have a date. No, that's not true. They would have been relieved. But I didn't. Who would have accepted ? Who would I have tolerated enough ? But I remember the other guys getting ready and being anxious. I remember the girls dressed in lovely robes. For a fleeting moment, I was disappointed and I regretted I hadn't even tried to invite someone. Some of the girls in Slytherin talked with me. Since I hadn't acted as a carbon copy of my father at the same age, people had eased around me. I wasn't what they had expected. At all. But they didn't know me well or they would have known I was as proud as my parents - both of them. I was sarcastic and well-mannered. I had a quick mind and a sharp tongue. Like Father, like Son. But I hadn't been educated in Pureblood Supremacy ideology. I wasn't mean to Muggleborns and Half-bloods. Well, let's say I wasn't meaner to them than to the others.

So I came alone to the Yule Ball. I didn't regret coming. It was an interesting night. That's the night I decided I should mingle with fellow students. That's the night I started to be noticed. That's the night I spoke to Rose Weasley for the first time. That's the night I met the very closed Weasley-Potter clan.

Rose. She had grown over the years. I hadn't really paid attention to her until then. I had no reason to : she didn't really try to better me in school and she stayed clear - like everyone else. But I was observant. She was popular but she didn't like the limelight because of her parents. She rebuked people without actually being mean. She could have been a competitor in class - had she tried.

Rose. She was pretty enough. She had obviously spend a long time getting ready. She had chosen her robe well : it flattered her. She must have been a bit shy because she was flushed with embarrassment when she entered the Great Hall. Everybody could see she was happy on the arm of her date. I assumed she must have liked the bloke for some time.

Poor Rose. I don't really know what happened. She never said. We weren't close. But I saw her arguing with her date. She was angry. She was disappointed. Suffice to observe how she held herself. She stormed over to where I stood. I don't think she even noticed me. I watched her for a few minutes before enquiring about her well-being. I've never quite seen her start so high again. Pity. That's how I discovered she was a fairly interesting debate partner. She wasn't what I expected. I suppose the reverse was also true.


	4. Growing Up

A/N : JK Rowling's property. Still not mine.

To all of you, readers and visitors, thank you for reading my story.

Growing up

I remember asking my parents, then my family about the Malfoys. My mother arched an eyebrow, my father dismissed them as quickly as he could. Uncle Harry tried to hide his distaste but I knew him as well as my parents. I saw his lip curling oh-so-slightly in disdain and his eyes turning darker. Even Aunt Ginny seemed contemptuous. None of them said anything untoward. None of them discouraged or forbade me from anything. But I knew them. They would not be happy. So I said nothing. I didn't ask anymore about them. I turned to the library and to History of Magic. What I learned was not sufficient.

Since the Yule Ball, I watched Scorpius. We regularly worked in companionable quiet in the library. He had changed. He wasn't the flash of white-blond hair my father had pointed out to me years ago. He was a strange guy. Lean but straight. His chin always high but his pace too quick. Attractive but lonely. Unnoticed but never threatened. Shy but self-assured. Acerbic but polite. A contrast by himself. He was different. And it was frightful how much I had discovered about him in so little time.

In our final years at Hogwarts, we went our separate ways but we were always aware of the other's progress and goings. In the classes we shared, we often sought each other out when we were given difficult assignments so we could work them out together. Needless to say, my parents were delighted by the improvement of my work. Albus warmed up slightly to Scorpius. My parents knew nothing about it.

Other people began to notice him. Girls mostly. I will always remember him the first time a girl asked him out. I remember his face when I enquired about his prolonged stay in the library. After that, he dated a few girls. Most were sweet, discreet, gentle girls. I wasn't jealous, per se. I didn't really like his girlfriends but I wasn't especially concerned either. By the time of our seventh year, I was honest enough to admit he was handsome. Make no mistake, he was no Apollo. His features were too pointy, his hair too white, his demeanour too cold and his wit too caustic. He was also too thin and too closed-off. But, let's face it, I was no Venus. I was pretty, yes. But I was no model beauty. I live with myself fairly easily nonetheless. And I've had enough boyfriends to let me know I was appreciated by the male population.

Surprisingly, we made rather similar work choices. Many had assumed, wrongly, we would follow our parents' footsteps. Why would anyone assume so ? It's ludicrous. Just because they are famous does not necessarily mean we are like them. Who would want to be perpetually compared to one's parents ? I was not my mother. I wasn't a Ravenclaw in disguise like her. I was not interested in law. Nor was I the feminine twin of my father. Well, I do love to eat, I have red hair and a tendency to be hot-tempered. The comparison stops here. And from what I gathered, Scorpius is nothing like his father. He may look like him, but I think that is as far as anyone can go.

My work, my beautiful, amazing, never-disappointing work is to study magical artefacts. And I'm good at it. I love it. When I get my hands on a new object, it's Christmas before time. I absolutely adore my job.

Scorpius trained in what Muggles would label archaeology. His job is to find new artefacts. I believe he wanted away from Britain and his family infamous reputation. So he travels the world and works with international diggers like him on projects for various countries. He repeatedly works with Muggles on archaeological sites and brings back to our community the magical stuff. Guess who then got those precious little things to study ? Of course it's me. Well, my department at least. How awesome is that ?


	5. Business

A/N : JK Rowling's property. Still not mine.

To all of you, readers and visitors, thank you for reading my story.

Business

Rose and I decided to work together a few years into our work. She was crazy about her job. She could spend months on an object, lovingly restoring or curse-breaking it. She looked up its history, she labelled it, filed its origin, its time, its use. She should have worked in a museum. That was Rose at her best. But the company who employed her wasted her talents and she was bored out of her mind. She had the less interesting artefacts, she wasn't as well paid, she was required for menial tasks, her office was smaller. She hated her workplace as much as she loved her job.

She came to me. We hadn't stayed in touch but we both had kept tabs on the other. She wanted to create her own business and negotiate directly with private customers. Her idea was simple. Many wizards have problems with family artefacts or want specific ones. Her job was to repair, curse-break or restore them. My job, if I were to enter business with her, would be to find the wanted artefacts. The research was hers, the actual digging mine.

I had come at a personal stand-by. I missed home and I was tired of continually travelling. The sites were more and more demanding and my personal life was a mess. The girl I had been dating for years had called it quits. I couldn't possibly go to my parents. For one I was too old. And Melinda was Muggle so they had never really swallowed our relation. They had borne it and hoped it would only be temporary. Seemed their wish was granted.

I was left stranded in-between. I wanted an out. And a "different". Rose came to me at a favourable time. The opportunity was too good to miss.


	6. Home

A/N : JK Rowling's property. Still not mine.

To all of you, readers and visitors, thank you for reading my story.

This chapter is longer. I hope you will like it.

Home

Scorpius was shy. He had grown and matured. He knew how to navigate in society, which words to choose, whom to manipulate to his benefit. But he was especially clumsy with girls. We've been working together for months before managing a real friendship. It was not an exuberant friendship. It was a closed, private, personal relationship. Our link over the years had evolved into something so precious that severing it was unthinkable. Personal matters were rarely discussed but we were at ease together. Silence was neither unusual nor uncomfortable. And I knew I could have gone to Scorpius about anything. I wasn't used of doing it, that's all. Anyway, he wasn't either.

When her 6-years-long relationship broke, Rose was crushed. I looked at her and saw nothing of what I've learned to appreciate. Her spark was gone. Her energy. Her laugh, her smile. Even her flares of temper. She was bitter and caustic, mean and angry. She felt vulnerable, betrayed. She took it out on us. All of us. Her family. Her cousins. Her friends. Me. For a time, she was lost. Our business and friendship suffered from the situation. Even my parents noticed something was off. And I had left their home long ago.

I remember the first time Scorpius met my parents. It really was long overdue. It had become absurd to keep him from them. He wasn't nervous but he wanted them to like him anyway. As if he had anything to worry about. As if they could not. Everyone who had tried to know him liked him. He just fell into the category of likeable persons. But if I was really honest, I knew deep down -very deeply buried anyway- that there was a chance my parents wouldn't condone our friendship. He was but a Malfoy. I might be a grown-up, I still need their blessing for all that is significant to me.

That's how a cold Sunday found us at their home, talking around lunch. Bless my brother who had rushed home to ease the conversation. Awkward is an euphemism. We were welcomed home and never a word was uttered that wasn't nice. My parents shook hands with Scorpius, kissed me, made idle chit-chat, they even went as far as enquiring about his work. They asked about the genesis of our business and his future goals. They talked about Quidditch and in any other house, it would have been downright friendly. Yet, we weren't comfortable. Scorpius felt it too. He was tense, his back straight. I closed my eyes once, and I could have sworn he was discussing an important business contract. I recognized his tone. Then I opened my eyes again, and it was only my parents. How strange can that be ?

Home.

I remember what home feels like. Home - that was my parents' house once. It was too big. Too empty with echoing corridors. Stern portraits who talked with authority and clipped tone. Who voiced their unwanted opinion and expected me to abide by it. Rooms that were banned, others which had been destroyed or rebuild, some which were avoided. The loss of grandeur and wealth obvious in the manor. But always, always, the watchful eye of my parents and their love for me to compensate the difficulties that were and those that were to come, the loneliness of an only child, the bitterness of my grand-parents. The wonderful garden of my mother, full of flowers and herbs, shade and sun. The stunning library, the peaceful music room with the grand piano, the violin, the many guitars and the bass. The amazing kitchen where I always was welcomed by the house elves who fed me biscuits and sugary delights and taught me much about cooking. Fortunately, my father stepped up for me despite my grand-parents' disapproval. Those are cherished memories. That's what home was like for a time. A contrast between harshness and quiet love.

Then I met Rose's family. The first contact had been uncomfortable but then, I discovered them. It was full of life and optimism despite all her parents had gone through. Her parents, who would cuddle and kiss in plain view. Who hugged and kissed their children and friends so often. Who would share knowing glances and smiles. Whose closeness was so obvious. Her family was raucous and joking and easy. It was fiery and arguing and jubilant. It was honest and simple. It was victorious. And it was never, ever calm. How could anyone think in all that bustle?

I decided my home would be a bit of both. My parents' quiet, cautious, penitent way of life mixed with Rose's positive and demonstrative one. Not opposed. Combined. Only the best of both. Yes, that was my promise. What I would achieve. What I would have earned. What I would deserve. What I would enjoy.

I remember that lunch with Scorpius. We were in our favourite restaurant, not far from our workplace. A muggle one. I watched him while he droned on and on about a new dig someplace I didn't even know the name of. I'm not proud to admit it, but my mind wandered. And it came to a sudden halt at a startling notion : that was home.

Home was being with Scorpius. Home was our little routine, this sense of comfort and ease, my unconditional trust in him. Home was lunching, sitting and talking quietly forgetting the world outside. Home was having him by my side.

Now, I just had to make him see what an absolute truth that was for the both of us.


	7. Love

A/N : JK Rowling's property. Still not mine.

This is the last chapter. I had much fun writing this story and I hope you had a nice time reading it. Thank you for taking the time to read me and a bigger thank to those you left a review.

Love

I remember our first kiss. I don't know what prompted it. It was a day like any other. Nothing peculiar except this fleeting moment when something flashed in her eyes. I still have no idea what possessed her but I suddenly found myself full of her. Her body against mine. Her hair tickling my neck. Her smell in my nose. Her waist against my hands. Her mouth on mine. I never let her go.

I remember when he proposed. He hadn't gone for traditional. It was a winter day, with grey skies and cold, so cold. He hadn't booked a restaurant. Not Scorpius. Not somewhere public. He hadn't chosen some fancy or romantic setting. He hadn't gotten down on a knee. He had produced a ring however. I think he did it on the spur of the moment really. Not that he would agree. Ever. He had been very articulate. Quietly spoken but determined. That was my Scorpius all right.

I remember my family. My mother's kiss and my uncle Harry's knowing smile. My father's embrace.

I remember his parents most. His mother's embrace - one of the very few she ever gave me, despite her usual benevolence. She wasn't much keen about touching I suspect. His father's too. That is one that really knocked the breath out of me by its unexpectedness. It was rough, and quick. But it was given freely.

"Welcome to the family."

I remember when we announced Rose was pregnant. The utter joy. The tears. The hugs and congratulations. The endless questions. The constant worry and tiptoeing around her. It grated on Rose's nerves. She would rant about it, everywhere, whenever it happened.

I remember the birth of our son. How could I ever forget ?

I remember Rose's second pregnancy. I remember my parents' sadness. I didn't know then that my mother once had another child. They lost my sibling before the birth. But Rose had Weasley blood. Our second son was healthy and unruly.

Our third child was a girl. A small little bundle of pinkness who developed into an absolute disaster about girly attitude. She was as much a tomboy as one could get.

I remember the first time we went to King's Cross with them, to see our first born to Hogwarts. I could almost see the ghost of a redhead girl staring at the ghost of a proud but frightened boy, across the station. I looked at Rose then. I know she saw them too.

 **The end.**


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